


Blessed are the wicked who are healed by my hand.

by meggotheeggo



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Child Abuse, Choking, Emotional Manipulation, Evil Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Fainting, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Hurt/Comfort, Manipulation, Mentioned Sam | Awesamdude, Mentioned Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Mentioned Toby Smith | Tubbo, Mentioned Wilbur Soot, Mind Break, Not A Happy Ending, Pandora's Vault Prison, Suicidal Thoughts, Swearing, Villain Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), bc it comes from dream, but not good comfort, no beta we die like tommy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-12
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-19 10:09:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29997789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meggotheeggo/pseuds/meggotheeggo
Summary: Being imprisoned with Dream, Tommy finds out, is harder to deal with than he thought. He's too close. Too close with no way out. His own personal hell, and the fucker knows it. He won't stop fucking staring. At least, Tommy thinks he is. The mask doesn't give much away, but if the skin crawling feeling he's getting is anything to go by, he's being watched. It almost feels like Tommy is the prisoner, trapped in a small box full of everything he's ever been scared of, stuck to one place under Dream's watchful and never ending gaze. It makes him feel scrutinised. Like one wrong move could result in his demise. It's unnerving, and it's too much. Too soon. He can't take it anymore, so he does the only thing he can.He shouts.OR, my take on Tommy being trapped in prison with dream
Relationships: Clay | Dream & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 68





	Blessed are the wicked who are healed by my hand.

**Author's Note:**

> hello!! i know this is way late but i've had the idea for a while, i just never got around to finishing it  
> (i took the title from deadpool 2)
> 
> i wanted to touch on the fact that tommy would have been easier to break in a week due to the effects of his exile conditioning still being part of him. please note that there are some dark themes in this work so make sure you read the tags carefully!! stay safe and look after yourselves :^))
> 
> warnings: manipulation, c!dream being c!dream, tommy's fragile mental state, choking, mentions of food, child abuse, suicidal thoughts, mind break

It's the first full day of Tommy's imprisonment ( _ Wrongful imprisonment, might he add _ .), and Tommy already feels as if he's losing his mind. It's only been a day, he's well, well aware of that ( _ He counted every painful minute from the moment he woke up from passing out in front of the lava _ .), but everything just feels like  _ too much _ . 

Every so often, viscous, purple liquid drips from the crying obsidian in the ceiling, sliding down the walls. It took Tommy five minutes to find a spot free of the mini rainfall. It's gross, if he's being honest, but he distracts himself thinking that the obsidian is crying because Dream is a big baby.

The lava, unceasing in its fluid movement, provides a constant stream of blinding light, spilling through the cell at all hours of the day, glinting off of the jagged edges of obsidian. 24/7 daylight. It makes sleeping impossible, which Tommy finds out first hand himself. Not that he'd want to sleep, anyway. Not in here. Not near  _ him _ .

Speaking of  _ him _ , Dream hasn't said a word, save for a whispered ' _ You okay? _ ' when Tommy woke up. If he tries hard enough, Tommy can almost trick himself into thinking the masked bastard was concerned, but it's fake. He knows it's fake. He won't let Dream get into his head ever again.

He glances at Dream from time to time. Not long enough for him to notice, but long enough to make sure he's keeping a safe distance. Dream shifts position every twenty minutes, Tommy counts. He stands, leaning against the back wall, then slides into a sitting position on the ground, back to the single chest in the corner. From there, he switches to sitting in front of the lectern, and writes a few pages in whatever stupid book he's working on. Then the cycle repeats, over and over, until Tommy can't take its repetitive nature anymore. 

"I hate you, y'know." Tommy says scornfully, finally turning his head towards Dream fully. The statement catches the man's attention, and he pauses for a split second in his effort to stand up, before continuing at a leisurely pace.

"You don't hate me, Tommy." The statement is accompanied by a chuckle, as if he knows something that Tommy doesn't. The thought makes Tommy see red. What the fuck is he talking about!? Dream has  _ no _ idea what he thinks. He doesn't fucking deserve to!! Even the  _ idea _ that Dream could- could say that and seem like he  _ believes _ it- the bastard!! 

"You hurt me, so much!! You almost killed Tubbo!! You ruined  _ everything _ !! You ruined my life and you ruined  _ me _ !! I hate you, Dream. I hate you more than anything. Do you have the faintest idea of what you did to me!?" A scoff leaves him as his anger rises. "Of course you do, because you  _ enjoyed _ it. You had fun. You said  _ I _ was fun. 'You're just too fun, Tommy.', remember that? How fucked up-"

The laugh that cuts him feels like thousands of spiders crawling beneath his skin. " _ What? _ " Dream's sickening laugh rings out once more, as if this is  _ amusing _ to him. "Tommy, I never said that."

And that,  _ that _ stops the teen in his tracks. 

"Wh-What the hell?" Has the isolation finally gone to Dream's head? Surely he remembers. The line has haunted Tommy's dreams since it was first spoken. "No. No, you said that to me. On the sky grid right after you blew up my fuckin' home. Tubbo- Tubbo was there. He would know. He-"

"A lot happened that day, Tommy. I know you're a liar, but this? This is ridiculous. You're making things up to paint me in a bad light!! It hurts, Tommy. I'm your  _ friend _ ." Dream doesn't even give him a chance to open his mouth for a rebuttal. "Anyway, if Tubbo was there, then why has he never brought it up?"

Tommy freezes in place. Sure, he'd found it a little weird that Tubbo never so much as mentioned the sentence that burned him the moment it was uttered, and every moment since. But that didn't mean he didn't hear it, right? Maybe- Maybe he was suppressing his trauma, like Puffy said. Puffy knows a lot. He can trust her.

_ Then where is she? _ A voice taunts in the back of his head. It sounds suspiciously like the bastard before him.

"Whatever. Just- shut up." Tommy grumbles. Seven days. He can manage this just fine. ( _ He's scared out of his mind. _ )

\--

On the second day, Tommy makes two marks in a book he stole from Dream. Two marks for two days. Hopefully all he'll need is seven.

Being imprisoned with Dream, Tommy finds out, is harder to deal with than he thought. He's too close. Too close with no way out. His own personal hell, and the fucker knows it. He won't stop fucking  _ staring _ . At least, Tommy thinks he is. The mask doesn't give much away, but if the skin crawling feeling he's getting is anything to go by, he's being watched. It almost feels like  _ Tommy _ is the prisoner, trapped in a small box full of everything he's ever been scared of, stuck to one place under Dream's watchful and never ending gaze. It makes him feel scrutinised. Like one wrong move could result in his demise. It's unnerving, and it's too  _ much _ . Too soon. He can't take it anymore, so he does the only thing he can.

He shouts. 

"SAM!! SAM, PLEASE!!" Tommy takes his place before the thick wall of lava, as close as he can manage without burning himself. "Sam, let me out. Come on, big man- please?"

Dream laughs from somewhere behind him, and it does nothing to quell his nerves. "He can't hear you, Tommy. He-"

"Shut the fuck up!! Sam!?" He needs to get out. He can't breathe and he needs to get out. "Please, fuck- anybody!!" 

Was the lava always this loud? He covers his ears just in case it wasn't. Tommy's chest feels tight. He's having a panic attack, he thinks. Puffy told him what to do before, regulating his breathing. His mind screams at him to take a breath, but a small part of him tells him to scream for his brother. 

"Wilbur!! Will, please!! Help me!! Help me-"

"He's not coming, Tommy!! No one is!!" The harsh voice makes him flinch, pulling a wet gasp from him. "It's just me and you, alright!? Just like old times.  _ No one _ is coming, because no one cares enough to."

"...What?" Tommy hates how small his voice sounds, how small he feels. Dream always makes him feel small.

"Don't you get it!? The two worst people, the ones who caused the most problems, are gone. Is it too hard to imagine that people might be happier without us? Without  _ you _ ? Think of how many enemies you've made, all the people you've hurt. They're probably enjoying some peace and quiet for once!!"

"Stop it- stop-"

"Maybe, they're  _ celebrating _ ."

" _ Shut up!! _ " Tommy screams, clamping his hands over his ears as hard as he possibly can. "Shutupshutupshutup-"

Tommy curls himself into a tight ball, tucked between the single chest and the dark obsidian. He sniffles, keeping his hands over his ears to block out the sounds.

He's painfully aware of his cellmate sitting directly opposite him, grinning like a mad man under that stupid fucking mask. 

\--

The hunger pains start on day three. 

It's a conscious decision, really, choosing not to eat. After all, Dream is the one with the food. It's a vivid reminder of exile, when Dream would bring him food and he would starve without. He doesn't want to depend on Dream again. Bad things happen when he does.

When he'd first entered the prison, Dream had handed him multiple potatoes. Why, Tommy couldn't understand, but now, he has a steadily growing suspicion that Dream had planned this from the beginning. Why else would the bastard want him to keep Tommy fed for what should have been a twenty minute visit? 

Tommy's stomach complains loudly at him, and as if on cue, a potato rolls across the floor towards him, stopping at his outstretched leg. His head snaps up to meet the face of the perpetrator, but he's met with a smiling mask instead.

"Eat up, Tommy." The words are spoken so casually, the sentence so simple. Something a father might say to his child after a day out. It's meaningless, but it makes Tommy's hands curl into fists. He doesn't satisfy him with a response. Dream doesn't deserve it. Tommy drops his gaze to the floor instead. 

"Hey. Come on." The irritation trickles into Dream's voice. His patience is thinning. Good. "What, are you on a hunger strike or something? Don't be stupid." 

Tommy neglects to mention that Sam told him about Dream's very own hunger strike, not so long ago. Instead, he kicks the potato to the opposite side of the cell in retaliation. Small victories, he supposes. Maybe until Dream stands up abruptly, that is.

"What the hell is your problem?" Dream stands, towering over him in two calculated strides, boots heavy against the purple stone beneath them. Tommy takes the opportunity to flip him off. He'll take what he can get, and what he gets is Dream's hand gripping his collar, dragging him to his feet.

"What the fuck!?-" 

"Eat your food. Don't make me force you." It's so far from a suggestion that it makes Tommy clamp his mouth shut. It's a demand. A threat. It's almost a challenge, in the way Dream's close proximity says  _ Do it. Make me force you. I've been itching for a fight. _

" _ Force me? _ Fuck off, Dream. You can't do shit to me in here. You're a weak bastard. A pussy." His voice shakes, because Dream is too close. Pissing him off was the goal, yes, but now that he's done it, he's starting to regret his decision. "Let me go. Get the fuck off!!"

The sound of the slap rings out before he feels it. The force of it makes his eyes water. 

"Do you want to starve in here!? Because anybody out there would happily let you!!" It's loud. So, so loud, and Dream uses the grip on his collar to shake him until he feels like his head will fall right off his shoulders. "You're always so difficult. I'm trying to help you, Tommy, but you're being so ungrateful."

And he is, isn't he? He's being so ungrateful to Dream. His friend, who only wants to help. ( _ He can't do this again. _ ) Tears fill his eyes once more, but this time without the force of the slap. Guilt, regret, unspoken apologies. They build up until everything overflows, making their way out in the form of a broken sob. Once it starts, it doesn't stop, and Dream gathers Tommy in his arms as his knees give out. 

"I only do this because I care about you. You know that, right?" A nod. "All I want is to keep you alive. Keep you safe. I do this because no one else will. Is that so bad?" 

_ No _ . Tommy thinks.  _ That's not so bad at all _ .

\--

The fourth day arrives, hastily marked in the leather-bound book, and Tommy finds himself staring into the lava. 

He stares into its never ending warmth. He stares into the molten sea. Watching. Searching. And yet he finds nothing. What he's looking for is beyond his comprehension, but the disappointment does not turn him away. 

It's beautiful. It always has been. Tommy thinks it's more beautiful than anything he's ever witnessed in this lifetime. More than L'Manberg in its entirety. More than Wilbur's songs. More than the pristine snow biome surrounding Techno's cabin. More than the night sky over Logstedshire, where the light pollution doesn't reach. It is life and death itself. Creation and destruction. Freedom and captivity. 

Some days, he finds himself wondering what it would be like to sink into it's warm embrace. Would it feel like a summer's day? Would it feel like a blanket after the cold? Would it feel like the arms of someone he loves, holding him close, never to let go? He hopes with every part of his being that it will. 

Maybe he should find out.

A step closer brings him to a familiar memory. A lava lake. The bridge to the nether hub. If he strains his ears enough, he can make out the faint conversation between Ghostbur and Sapnap as they make their way through the portal. But Tommy can't go through. Tommy can't leave, and it's his fault. 

A heavy hand on his shoulder. A whisper in his ear.

_ It's not your time to die yet, Tommy.  _

Perhaps not then, but maybe now. 

_ Step forward _ . The lava says.  _ Step forward, and I will show you a world of eternal warmth. Eternal happiness like you have never experienced before. Step forward, child, for I will take your burden now. _

But Tommy doesn't get a chance to step forward. 

He's pushed.

There's a weight on his back, and suddenly he's falling, falling, falling. The heat gets more and more unbearable. He falls, and then there's a hand on his shirt, holding him inches away from what would have been his doom.

Eyes wide, he sucks in a panicked breath, pulling his head back ever so slightly. The hand on his shirt turns into a vice-like arm around his torso, and a firm hand on his head, pushing him as close as he can get without submerging his face.

"You wanna jump in the lava so bad? Then let me help you." Says the growl somewhere behind him, and fuck, he doesn't want to anymore. He doesn't. He can't. Tommy struggles against the arms, but they don't budge.

"Go on, Tommy. I know you don't. So say it. Say you don't want to. Say it, and I'll let you go." The voice is almost smug, if Tommy has to guess. No sound escapes him as he freezes in fear. He shakes, and worries that every movement will send him forward. "Unless, you were waiting for me to give you that final  _ push _ ." Tommy jerks forward at the word, the tip of his nose just barely brushing the bright mass.

"I don't want to!! Please- Please I won't do it again. I won't do it- I promise-" 

There's a split second pause where Tommy thinks his pleas won't be listened to, but he's pulled back into a strong chest as he lets the shaking take over. 

"You did good, Tommy."

He doesn't think about falling into the lava again.

\--

Day five is a good day. 

When Tommy wakes up, there are three raw potatoes waiting for him. Three! Next to the food rests a single piece of paper, containing a smiley face. He feels himself light up from the thoughtfulness. Dream did this for him. Dream gave up his own food supply for Tommy. ( _ He's unaware of the extra food that landed in the water today. _ )

When he finishes his meal, Dream is waiting for him. It takes Tommy a second to realise that Dream is without his mask, just like when they spent time together in exile. The porcelain is abandoned on the floor beside him, and the smile he wears is more genuine than anything the mask could ever hope to replicate. 

Dream wants to play a game. Tic tac toe. Tommy knows this one, because he would play it with Tubbo when the meetings in L'manberg touched on topics he couldn't understand. 

They sit with a book between them, quills in hand. Dream lets him win the first game. He doesn't even care when Tommy's hands shake so much that the symbols look like scribbles on the page. He makes all the wrong moves on purpose, moves even Tommy wouldn't think to make, and he instructs Tommy on where to place his crosses to 'maximise his strategy'. But Tommy knows Dream is just being kind.

He lets Dream win every other game that comes afterwards. Dream doesn't like losing. He  _ knows _ this. But he also knows that Dream deserves to win. He can't think of anyone who deserves it more. And Dream  _ smiles _ when he wins. He smiles and Tommy can see it. It makes the warmth in his chest spread more and more each time. Tommy will lose every game in existence if it means seeing Dream smile at him. Because when Dream smiles, it means safety. It means comfort and a day without pain and fear. Happy Dream means an uninjured Tommy. 

"Good game, Tommy. You played well." 

"Really?" Tommy asks, because Tommy thinks he was failing on purpose. 

"Of course. You came close to beating me a few times." The praise is exactly what he's been craving. It's everything he needs.

Tommy beams.

\--

On what Tommy thinks is the sixth day, the food arrives on time as it always does. Potatoes, always potatoes. Dream expresses his distaste, but Tommy is happy that the food arrived at all. 

The boy stands near the lava, waiting for his ration. Dream hands him a single raw potato, and takes his place on the opposite end of the small space. 

Tommy's wretched hands shake, and he fumbles to keep the potato within his grasp. 

It's almost as if time slows down as the potato drops to the obsidian below.

Time speeds up once again, and Tommy watches with wide eyes and bated breath as the vegetable bounces once, twice, and rolls until the lava envelops it in its warm embrace. 

Dream's eyes are on him in an instant.

He doesn't have time to react ( _ He's not even sure if he would. _ ) before his head meets the obsidian with a sickening crack as he's slammed into the wall behind him, rough hands wrapping around his pale neck like a vice. Not tight enough to cut off his airflow, but enough that breathing is just that little bit harder. 

"Are you fucking incompetent!? You know how important food is in here, Tommy, and you just go wasting it like that!?" The hands burn against his skin as they tighten minutely, almost imperceptibly, and the green eyes of his offender narrow in rage. "You can't even be trusted to eat for yourself. Are you that stupid!?" 

"I'm- I'm sorry- I didn't mean to IswearI'msorry-"

"Sorry doesn't cut it, Tommy." The hands tighten once more, and  _ oh god _ , he can't breathe. Dream is talking and he can't breathe, can't focus, can't think. He feels everything and nothing at all. All he knows is Dream. Dream's fingers around his throat, Dream's jagged nails digging into his skin, Dream's voice in his head, Dream's presence consuming him. He feels like he's drowning, sinking under the water surrounding Logstedshire. He wants it to stop and he wants to tell Dream he's sorry and  _ please he won't do it again he's sorry it hurts please _ -

"-This can't go unpunished, do you understand me, Tommy? You need to learn your lesson." It takes Tommy less than a second to nod, to agree. He wants to learn, wants to be better, guided by Dream's gracious hand. He doesn't deserve Dream's help, Dream's time, but he is graced by it nonetheless. Because Dream  _ cares _ . He's told this time and time again, and Tommy believes it. All he has is Dream, and he is all the better for it. Hot tears escape his treacherous eyes as his feet scramble to stay grounded, held up by nothing but Dream's hands.

The man seems to think something through, and Tommy waits patiently through every second, struggling against the haze over his vision. He's not going to pass out. Dream won't let him. He trusts him with his life. After all, it is in his hands.

"There will be no food for you until Sam comes to get you tomorrow. You need to learn the importance of food, before you're allowed the privilege of it. Does that sound fair?" 

It's more than fair. Dream is having  _ mercy _ on him, and Tommy has never felt more grateful. There are far worse punishments than no food for a day and a half. Dream is going easy on him. He cares, and Tommy knows it. The blonde nods again, and is gifted with a smile that he doesn't deserve. His still trembling hand comes to rest upon the wrist of his friend. Not as a challenge, but as a promise to submit. It's the least he can do after the trouble he's caused.

"There you go." Dream says. His voice is soft, comforting, and Tommy sinks deeper, a pained whimper leaving his mouth. "That wasn't so hard, was it? I knew you'd understand. You did so well." 

Tommy is underwater. The words don't reach him, but the meaning does.  _ Dream is proud of him _ . It's more than he's earned, but the thought of Dream's pride being directed at him makes him feel warmth in a way that the lava can't begin to replicate. 

Black spots overtake his vision just as he is released, and he's unconscious before he hits the ground.

\--

Tommy comes to slowly, and he is curled into the warmth of someone familiar. The man is writing. Something nonsensical that Tommy can't begin to make out through eyes that haven't yet adjusted. The familiar man's free hand rests gently in Tommy's hair, unmoving, a solid force. It makes him feel safe. ( _ It makes him feel sick _ .) His protector hums a tune Tommy feels he has known for lifetimes, but its words are long forgotten now. For a moment, Tommy can almost believe he's in L'Manberg. Sitting under the L'Mantree with Wilbur, watching as he scrawls out the final notes of their country's anthem.

_ "This will be a good one."  _ Wilbur says, and Tommy believes him, because everything Wilbur writes is good. Curling further into his chest, his brother's heartbeat sounds in his ear, and Tommy thinks it's the greatest symphony Wilbur has ever composed. 

_ "Are you listening to me, Tommy?"  _ Tommy nods, because there's nothing he would rather do. The voice sounds wrong, but their general has been tired for weeks. They're short on loot. Food, medical supplies, potions, building materials. Wilbur has been working his ass off day and night to protect their nation. To protect them. Tommy knows this, and so he lets it go.

_ "Tommy."  _ The voice comes again. It sounds annoyed this time, spoken through gritted teeth. But didn't Tommy respond the first time? He tries to answer verbally, but no sound escapes him. His throat burns like hell. What happened? It feels like-

"Tommy!" A sharp tug on his hair snaps him back to reality. Lava. Obsidian. Prison.  _ Dream _ . He shifts his gaze to the man beside him, his neck screaming at him with every movement. His friend is without his mask once again, and Tommy can't decide if it makes him feel safer or more vulnerable. 

"Jesus, Toms. Listen when I'm talking to you, alright?" The nickname brings a bittersweet feeling, but the chuckle that follows lifts Tommy's spirits. Good things happen when Dream laughs. "I'll repeat myself then. Sam is coming to get you today, isn't he?"

Tommy nods, hating himself for the way he lights up at the news. Has it only been seven days? It feels like an eternity. ( _ Maybe it was _ .) 

Dream hums, turning back to his book, suddenly disinterested. It's such a normal act, so why does it make Tommy feel so guilty? He knows he's meant to leave. Dream wrote the contract himself. Sam will come to get him. He'll go home, run his hotel, spend time with Tubbo in Snowchester. But Dream said Tubbo doesn't care, so maybe he'll just run his hotel. He knows he's meant to leave, in the end, so why does he feel so bad about it?

"You'll visit me, right? I'll miss you when you leave." The fingers tighten in his hair slightly, and Tommy nods as quickly as he can. Of course he'll visit. Dream is his friend. It would be selfish not to. 

"Once- Once a w-week?" He strains to get the words out, and his voice sounds all scratchy, but he has to make the effort. For Dream. He's awarded an empty smile in return.

"We'll talk about it." Dream says. And that's the end of that.

Tommy spends the next hour in anxious silence. Dream keeps his eyes fixed on him, he can feel it, but Tommy's gaze doesn't move from the wall of lava. Not once. Sam will come. Not because he cares, but because it's his job. 

He waits for the warden. He waits, and he waits, and he waits. He waits until Dream tells him it's time for bed, and then he waits some more. 

For all his waiting, he is given a single message.

_ Hang tight, Tommy. Security issue isn't fixed yet, I'll have to keep you in there a little longer for your safety. I'm sorry. _

He can't react. Really, he doesn't know how. Tommy becomes detached from himself. There in body, not in mind. He barely registers Dream's mild shock, the elated grin that crosses his face at the sight of the message. He merely slumps into Dream's comforting arms that little bit more, and shuts out the rest of the world. Nothing matters anymore, anyway. Nothing but Dream. 

"You and I are gonna get out of here. We'll go far away. Just the two of us. You'd like that, wouldn't you?" The fingers are in his hair again, carding through the tangled locks. The movement is repetitive, soothing. No one else would take this much care. No one else would be as gentle as Dream. 

He thinks of a future where he's happy. A future where he wakes up each day at the crack of dawn, swaddled in warm blankets, and breakfast is already waiting on the kitchen table. A future where he tends to his favourite cow in the sunlight that spills across a vast field. A future where he doesn't have to fight, where he isn't hurt, betrayed, or used. He knows this isn't the future Dream speaks of, but maybe, it can be just as good.

Because anywhere with Dream is good. Anywhere with Dream is safe. Dream would never hurt him. Not unless he deserves it. ( _ The words L'Manberg, Doomsday, Pogtopia and exile ring through his head in alarm, but he can't bring himself to find the meaning of them. _ ) 

Tommy's hand curls into the coarse fabric of Dream's orange jumpsuit. Letting his eyes slip shut, he succumbs to the numbness that holds him in its cold grasp.

"Yes," He croaks out. "Yes, I would."

**Author's Note:**

> i didn't want the ending to be a cliche happy ending so i thought this was the most fitting. you can decide what happens next!! 
> 
> thank you for reading!! this isn't my best fic but i've been really busy with college recently and i wanted to get this out. i hope u enjoyed!! 
> 
> c!tommy deserves better


End file.
